Coffee & Cigarettes
by Onriette
Summary: Two-shot. AU Pre-Season1. Elena copes with her parent's deaths in the only way she knows how: With the help of vodka, some dancing and tonight, a tall, dark stranger. A SongFic of Coffee & Cigarettes by NeverShoutNever. Read warning inside. D/E


_AU, Pre-Season 1. Two-shot. OOC Dark/depressed Elena. Warnings: Substance/ alcohol abuse, mature themes._

_**(p.s: I figured out line breaks – go me!)**_

Part I

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Since the funeral, my life had been different.

The funeral made it real for me.

I couldn't hide from it any longer, I couldn't close my eyes, stick my headphones in my ears and pretend it hadn't happened. I suppose seeing someone you love be reduced to a sad black box, does that to you. The person they were is gone and a coffin is in their place. Watching as they're lowered into the ground and being powerless to look away, wanting to scream,_ "Stop! This shouldn't be happening!"_

But it was, and what's worse is that it happened because of me. My parents died, because of me. And I had to live with that. That's what the funeral showed me_._

"_Coffee and cigarettes are my only escape. I got my cup of Joe, my pack of stokes, and I'm on my way downtown."_

I exhaled slowly, savouring the feeling of calm, which came - like so many of my other emotions - fleetingly of late. The calm crept soothingly over my skin and warmed me from the dull numbness. I took another drag, my hands shaking from the brisk early morning air. I looked out across the street from my perch, which was huddled on the rooftop above my bedroom. I was watching the sunrise, indulging in one of the few small pleasures I had left. My only others being cigarettes, caffeine and hard liquor. But those were bittersweet pleasures. I used them for what they could do – make me feel again. Though these fake, imitation emotions lasted precious little time and always left me feeling worse than when I started. Nevertheless, these were better than no feelings at all, better than the numbness. I yawned as the beams of red and orange lit up the horizon. I closed my eyes for a brief second before snapping back to reality – I knew I couldn't sleep. That's why I had been up here since 4:30am. My shattered nerves craved the comfort a nicotine rush could give and my tired mind needed the stimulant.

The pocket of my worn out hoodie began to buzz and I groaned. I stubbed out the end of my cigarette carelessly and pulled out my vibrating phone. The shining digits read 6:35am. I was meant to be getting up for school in half an hour. Mystic Falls was starting to wake up and it was time for me to climb down, I couldn't risk being seen up here. I didn't want anyone finding out about my particular brand of 'therapeutic drugs'. Because I knew what would happen then, they'd realise I had been pretending, that I 'wasn't coping.' Then I'd be given 'the talk', how they know I've been going through a 'difficult time' but turning to drug abuse was not the answer. I'd be carted off to a shrink or worse still rehab. I didn't need some total stranger asking me 'and how do you feel about that?' whilst I spill my childhood traumas, to fix what was wrong in my life. Because this couldn't be fixed. My parents died, end of story. No amount of 'talking it through' would change that.

But I got by, day by day, minute by minute and I did it the only way I knew how. I put on my mask, my facade of normality and I played my part in the act I called my life.

As I climbed back through my open window I slipped slightly on the ledge, I swore quietly as I righted myself. I was more tired than I thought; I wasn't sure how many hours sleep I had gotten the night before, 4 or maybe 5? I couldn't remember, things were starting to blur together – not a good sign. I made my way to my bathroom, splashing my face under the tap before I looked back at my refection in the mirror. I looked awful, I had strong dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, my eyes looked bloodshot from the copious amounts of caffeine I consumed daily and my hair was in need of washing. I turned the shower on and busied myself looking for clothes to wear whilst the water got hot.

Half an hour later, I looked like a different person. My hair was freshly washed, I was dressed for school, my makeup had been impeccably applied to the hide dark circles and my bloodshot eyes had been taken care of with eye drops. My mask was complete. The girl in the mirror smiled back at me, it was a tight, forced smile. Next, I grabbed my schoolbooks and 'survival kit'. This consisted of my tobacco tin, Tic-tac's and body mist - for after I'd smoked the contents of my tobacco tin – and a sports bottle of Jack Daniels. Then I headed downstairs to face the day.

Jenna was rushing around, late for work once again. _"Good," _I thought to myself, _"she wouldn't be paying too much attention to me."_ I always found speaking to Jenna hard; she reminded me a lot of Mum. Maybe that was why I found it difficult to lie to her, so mostly I tried to avoid her. When she noticed me - I was pouring a large amount of black coffee into a flask - she gave me a quick smile before carrying on with franticly packing her workbag. I went into autopilot. A polite smile flickered onto my face, she didn't see it not quite reach my eyes. "I'm working late again tonight, Elena," she said. I sighed under my breath, _"Thank god,"_ I thought. It meant I wouldn't have to lie and tell her I was staying at Bonnie's tonight. My aunt had been working late a lot recently, by the time she would get back; it would look like I'd gone to bed. For me this was like a scene in a movie, every word was a line I had rehearsed. I was a one-woman show, the carefully crafted Elena Gilbert Act. "Oh, okay Aunt Jenna," I said, my face full of contrived disappointment, "shame you won't be home for dinner."

Jenna grimaced, "I know, I'm really sorry about all these late nights. Work will slow down soon, then you, Jeremy and I can spend some proper time together." The genuine care in her voice made a part of me wince inside, I purposely fiddled with the lid of the flask so I wouldn't have to meet the look of regret in her eyes. I hated doing this. I shoved the flask into my bag, "See you later," I called, briefly looking back at her, trying to leave as quickly as I could without looking suspicious. When I got outside, I let out an unsteady breath. I'd managed to get out the house, now the hard part began – getting through school.

I took a huge swig of coffee as I pulled up in the school car park, I could tell I was shaking. My sleep deprivation was catching up on me and as I thought of the whiskey in my bag, I considered making my coffee Irish. "Fuck it," I mumbled, tipping the alcohol into the coffee. I needed it today. I knocked back the liquid, coughing at the burn as it made its way down the back of my throat. My head lolled back against the headrest, my eyesight going momentarily cloudy. I took a couple of deep breaths, feeling steadier I got out of the car.

I hated walking down the hallways, girls lowered their voices when I passed, talking in hushed whispers, I could guess what they were saying. For the first month, it was all anyone could talk about:

"_Did you hear?"_

"_Poor Elena..."_

"_...parent's died," _

I hated the looks of pity from the guys; I knew what they were thinking: _"She has baggage,"_

So I stopped making eye contact, I stopped listening to the whispers. I kept myself to myself. Caroline and Bonnie stuck by me, but our friendship was never quite the same. It was as if we were somehow different now. Maybe it was that they'd never experienced loss as I had. They could still be naive and joyful, be concerned with frivolous things like school dances and shopping. Those things just didn't hold my interest as they had before.

I managed to avoid social interaction until the end of my first class, when Bonnie and Caroline cornered me by my locker. They gave me tentative smiles; since the accident, they had treated me like a piece of fragile china, always worried I'd break at the slightest thing. "Looking forward to the weekend?" Bonnie asked, taking my arm. The weekend, I had completely forgotten. I hadn't even realised it was Friday.

"Sure," I smiled as best as I could. Caroline then proceeded to babble on about trivial school banter as we walked to our next class. I went into Actress Elena Mode and nodded along as I was expected to, feigning interest at all the right pauses of convocation. By the time Lunch rolled around, I was exhausted. Physically and mentally, I was on a comedown from the caffeine and I was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on what Bonnie and Caroline were saying. I'm sure I had nodded off for a couple of minutes in Biology Class, but luckily the bell woke me before anyone noticed. I didn't know how long I could keep this up, I had to get away and find Vicki.

Since my parents passed, I'd been spending a lot of time with Vicki Donovan. We first met when I'd been dating her older brother; I'd thought she was bad news then. Everybody in school knew Vicki Donovan was notorious for sleeping around, cutting class and getting high. Bonnie and Caroline frowned upon our surprising friendship; they thought she was a bad influence. They were right. But right now, she was my lifeline. In a way she sort of understood what I was going through, she'd grown up with a mother who'd been hardly ever there and no farther. That and she could get me booze and tobacco at the drop of a hat. I didn't have to pretend around her, she didn't care how I acted. It was a welcome escape. I found Vicki around the back of the school with the rest of the stoners. "Hey, 'Lena," she greeted me with a lazy smile.

"Hey," I said, sitting down next to her on the stone steps that lead to the door of the Science Block. I was dying for a smoke. "Got a light?" I asked in a dull voice and she handed me her Zippo. "Cheers." I said, lighting up. The relief was immense, I sighed blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"You coming out tonight?" she asked. We both knew the answer to that question, I was out most nights.

"Yep," I said bluntly. Our conversations were always like this, I was abrupt but she didn't care. We had an almost unwritten understanding, we never spoke about it but she seemed to get that my attitude was caused by the accident and not her.

"Great," Vick grinned, "There's a _killer_ party tonight, you up for going out of town?"

I shrugged, "Jenna's working late,"

"Awesome, I'll drive by your house tonight,"

"_Friday nights are always the same in this town. I'm looking up, but I'm feeling kind of down."_

I woke up with a start to the blaring of a car horn from my bedroom window. I look around franticly, confused for a moment as to where I was. I was lying on the bed in my pitch-black room; I could see the harsh glow of Vicki's headlights from the window. I had been having another one of those dreams. The type that stopped me from ever wanting to go back to sleep again. I was back in _that _car, on_ that_ night. I shivered, recalling the feel of the ice cold water seeping over my skin, my parents screams as the car plunged into the lake...

Vicki's car horn sounded again, snapping me out of my stupor. I was late; I cursed myself for falling asleep. Dazed, I stumbled to my window, pushing it open. "Alright!" I shouted down, "I'm coming..." I trailed off when I saw the car; it was not Vicki Donovan's Renault Golf. Vicki waved at me out the passenger window of a cherry red Ferrari F450. The guy driving looked like he belonged on the side of an A&F bag. I blinked, for a second I thought I might have been still half-asleep. I sighed; I was way too sober to be dealing with Vicki's antics. I hurriedly pulled out party clothes from my wardrobe, putting on the first things I found that looked right together. I grabbed my purse before running down to meet Vicki.

"Hey Babe," she greeted as I jumped in the backseat of the Ferrari. It felt a little surreal as my hand met the cool leather of the seat. I was in a _Ferrari._ "This is Dean," she introduced, "he's in Collage..." I let Vicki blather on about her new eye candy, not really listening.

I pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose from my bag and took a long gulp. "So where's this party at?"

_A.N: Hi everyone! I feel awful about my lack of updating, I've had writer's block, so I thought writing a little twoshot might help me get over it. I'm going to try my best to get another chapter of Atlantic City out as soon as possible! _

_I was a little nervous about uploading this because I never written anything this dark before... Frankly, I'm not really sure if it's any good, so feedback is very much appreciated. I know a lot of the characters are OOC, especially Elena. I wanted to play with the idea that she went down the same road Jeremy did. This is going to be a DELENA fic of course and Mr Salvatore will be making an appearance in Part II. Dark!Damon meets Dark(ish)!Elena, what will happen? _


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